


The Assorted Backstories Story

by Lycaonpictus77



Series: Spooky ML AU [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Gen, chapter warnings at the beginning of each chapter, formerly 'The Princess and the Peacock', spooky ml au, this is a mess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2018-10-10 00:34:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10425306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lycaonpictus77/pseuds/Lycaonpictus77
Summary: Before Adrien started school, other people were busy living their lives. These are their stories. [bum bum]





	1. The Princess and the Peacock: Mom Agreste

**Author's Note:**

> What was Adrien's mother like? What's the deal with Plagg and his cryptic non-answers about her death? I guess we're gonna find out. Sort of family comedy road trip but instead of going camping and losing their gear through a series of mishaps, they're going to take a stroll down Exposition Road and unpack some of the lore. And hopefully survive. 
> 
> You know, until the end of this fic at least.

She was born in the spring, and lived in the spring, and did all things with the spring in mind. It lived inside her like the beat of her heart, and filled the space of her soul. Her music was the babbling fountain; her art was the flowers that crept over the hillside; her time, and her space, faded and grew with the spring.

She didn’t remember being a child, though she was sure she had been one at some point—sometimes, she couldn’t remember being young at all, and she was a wizened scrap smiling through a toothless mouth at whatever traveler happened by. Duusu always said this was her best quality: Not her adaptability to their realm and its peculiarities, but her instinct to smile. It made him happy to see, to hear her laughing in the sunshine, splashing in the rain.

Duusu hadn’t exactly raised her—(she’d raised herself, for all intents and purposes)—but he had been the one to find her as an infant, squalling in the shallow water of the pond in front of his cave. They had never quite been able to figure out what she was doing there; if someone had been trying to kill her, they’d done a poor job of it, and a sacrifice seemed unlikely given Duusu’s well-known love of gold and material wealth, but there was no way for a baby to get there unless it was left, and as far as they could tell, no one who did the leaving.

Both Duusu and the realm accepted her immediately, wrapping her in swaths of silk and mantles of power, names and traditions manifesting around her as her spirit bargained with the land.

 _Emília_ , the wildling of the cuélebre’s cave, who crept across the hillside and danced in the shadow of waterfalls. A laugh like the tinkle of bells, and a smile like the light on morning dew. She was the joy of Duusu’s life, enchanting all who met her with an easy grace.

She was gentle with the young, the old, the weak—providing guidance and help where necessary, replacing lost thoughts and remaking lost things for any who were willing to pay the price for a spell. She was not a witch, to ask materials; she worked in the plane of sentiment, transforming a memory into a reality, or tears into roses. It was a natural magic, as natural as the spring that bore her, and she worked it instinctually. Her instruction was the budding of trees, the song of birds, the high air of her hills.

With the strong, she was fierce. Vicious. She could peer into the heart of a man and know his greatest evil from a single glance, and she would punish as she saw fit. She was justice. She was the fire blazing up, the floodwaters screaming down. She was a torrent of feelings unchecked by anyone, or anything.

She was wild.

For a time, she did as she would. She learned the ways of the humans in the valley below, and talked to them in whatever guise suited her best. She spoke eloquently, though frankly, and was surprisingly well-mannered for having grown up in a cave.

In the end, though, wildness is not an easy thing to tame.

It was when she razed a farm that Plagg decided to intervene.

“Duusu,” he said with a sigh at the mouth of the cave, “you know very well that there are rules for a reason.” He was bright in the shade, snow white hair on milky skin, his dark clothing doing little to dull the effect.

His eyes were the brightest of all, green flashes of lightning that left no room for excuses.

“Oh, ‘rules’—she’s broken no rules, and no laws, or it wouldn’t be you coming to see us,” huffed Duusu in return. His head bobbed and rotated when he spoke, causing the light to sparkle on his well-polished scales, the color of sharp cobalt and kept promises. They changed their hue down the range of his long, long neck, deepening to viridian before bursting on his great wings into the brialliant patterns he was so proud of. His scales grew longer and thinner farther down his body, layered like a bush viper’s until finally they grew into his long, dramatic feathers.

“That may be,” Plagg allowed, scowling, “but it’s only a matter of time at this rate. You saved her, so she’s your responsibility, and you need to teach her the laws before she winds up in trouble with Tikki.”

“Had Tikki been aware of the situation at the farm, I’m sure she would have agreed,” Duusu retorted coolly.

“Well, we’ll never know _now,_ will we? You’ve let your brat rampage across the countryside doling out vigilante justice and helper spells like they’re nothing!”

“They _are_ nothing—it’s never she who pays the price. And I’ll thank you not to call her a brat; you’ve not even met her to make such a judgment.”

“I’m judging her based on her actions, birdbrain,” Plagg hissed. Had he been in cat form, his hackles would be up, but as it was he contented himself with a baring of dull teeth, and a hand on the hilt of his sword. “She might have killed someone!”

“Then so be it,” said Duusu, sniffing dismissively. “It seems only fair to me. He kills people, we kill him. Whatever happened to justice?”

“Whatever happened to leaving the humans be?” Plagg demanded with a scowl. “We don’t interfere unless there’s something in it for us. That was the deal. Are you going to break a promise, Deuce?”

Duusu grew still, turning a baleful eye to his erstwhile companion. His deadly glare spoke for itself.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the way things have to be,” Plagg stressed. “I believe you when you say she’s doing it for justice, but we’re mouros before we’re anything else. She can’t become a weapon like that.” His fingers trailed along the hilt of his sword, echoing the gravity of the situation. “You can’t let her.”

“It’s not just justice,” Duusu sighed, sagging a little as he relented. “She does it because it makes her feel… good. She likes to help. It’s not purely altruistic.”

“That sounds like the definition of altruistic,” Plagg chuckled. He let his hand drop from the sword, the energy of the conversation noticeably changing at Duusu’s wordless concession.

“You know what I mean,” said Duusu sourly, sticking out his forked tongue in a childish gesture. “She’ll be in the hills. Be careful; she likes to sneak up on people.”

Plagg snorted. No one sneaked up on him.

He thanked Duusu, giving him a silver goblet for his time, and left the cuélebre cooing in delight over his prize as he stalked into the bare hills.

The hills of the region were so steep that in places they were nearly mountains, only the softness of vegetation soothing ragged rock. It reminded Plagg of the moors he’d grown up on, barren to the untrained eye—but every dip and hollow overflowed with life, the drone of bees, the whisper of a warm breeze. The scent of heather pervaded the air, though the flowers here bloomed white, before the summer heather he knew so well. It was at once familiar and unfamiliar, achingly similar to his home yet possessing no real commonality. Even the magic felt different.

He found her standing on a low boulder, her gold-spun hair loose behind her, tangled in the breeze. Her clothes were plain and too big for her, beige and mottled green. She was tall for her apparent age, on the cusp of twelve or thirteen, stretched out and gangling with a paradoxical grace that betrayed her nature.

No human tween could pull off elegance.

She didn’t turn as he approached, keeping her eyes on the valley below.

“So, what?” said Plagg, stepping up onto the rock beside her, “You’re their guardian now? You’re going to keep them safe?”

“Maybe,” she said.

“It’s not something to commit to on a maybe.”

“I don’t know that I am,” she answered. “I don’t know that I want to protect this village, or this place, or these people. I just know that I saw injustice and I wanted it to be just.”

He hummed thoughtfully, following her gaze to look down at the town below them. It was pretty enough; simple stone buildings with red rooves, worked into the side of the hills. A good place for a sídhe, maybe, but not for a contract.

“Why?” he asked softly.

“Why do I want justice?” she clarified with a faint laugh.

“Why do you concern yourself with people you may never see again? Our lives run on a different track. Tomorrow they could all be dead for centuries, and you a forgotten story.”

“They matter to me. It’s not my town—”

“You’d do well to remember that.”

“—but it’s the valley I was born in. It’s the hills I love. They walk these same trails, Cat.”

“And do you see the wear they leave? The tracks on every moor? Do you feel the trees growing taller and shorter around you?”

“I do.”

“You cannot live as they do, Girl. We live by our own laws. You have made a deal, and above all else, we honor deals.”

“Duusu won’t speak of it,” she admitted. “But you won’t lie to me, will you?”

“Duusu won’t lie to you either,” said Plagg.

“He lies with his silence,” she scoffed. “He keeps things to himself when I know he sees the world for all it is, and feels the same magic I do. There’s so much about my life I don’t understand, so many questions I don’t even know to ask.”

“I’ve come to teach you,” he said, sourly, as if it were being dragged out of him.

“But will you lie to me?”

“Never,” he promised. “I don’t know what path you’ll choose, but it is your choice to make. That is why I was sent.”

“For your good sense?”

He laughed. “Hardly. For my respect. Tikki knows I won’t pressure you, or force you into something you aren’t.”

She turned to look at him, finally.

“I have been tasked with training you in our ways, should you see fit to accept,” he explained formally, with a sarcastic half-bow.

“And why has Duusu not been tasked with such?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. “He still answers to your Queen. You all do. Tell me, do you go running after her for a saucer of milk?”

“The old snake is unfit to train you.”

She bristled at that. “What do you mean?”

“He’s proud. Too busy preening his scales and polishing his feathers to recognize that others have things to contribute. He won’t teach you the ways of our kind because he thinks his ways are the best ways, and there’s no need for you to decide that for yourself.”

“We are not the same kind,” she said carefully, though their green eyes flashed almost the same shade.

“Ah, but we are—and that is what I must teach you.”

“You would teach me that our magic is what unites us. That we’re all just one big happy family under the sun,” said Emília, growing bitterer as she spoke until she was spitting the words out. “You are no family for me, Cat. Duusu is all that I need.”

“And you are no family for me,” he agreed. “You’re a spoiled brat with the same self-righteous attitude as that damned bird. But I have my orders, and you have your right to know.”

“What if I don’t want to know?” she hissed. “What if I prefer to live in ignorance, and tend this valley like the shepherds tend their flocks? What if I refuse you, and your almighty Queen, and live here with Duusu?”

“Then you’ll die.”

She blinked.

“You would kill me?” she asked softly. If Plagg had not spent so much time with Tikki, he might not have recognized the threat of violence in her gentle tone. She was not poised to strike, nor did she have a flare of magic about her—she simply stood, half-facing him, her arms draped harmlessly at her sides.

“I would,” he confirmed. “But the Queen does not think it best. This is not a punishment, Little Rival. You are not being forced into anything, and should you refuse, I will leave and never return, unless summoned. But should you fail to summon me, you will die.”

“Hm,” she said, turning back to her valley. “I didn’t think someone telling me they’d kill me could be comforting.”

“Personally I’ve always found it rather refreshing,” said Plagg, snorting. “Though I’m more or less immortal, so mostly it’s just funny.”

“Am I immortal?” she asked, cocking her head.

“You could be.”

“Is Duusu?”

“Yes.”

“And if I go with you, you’ll teach me?”

“Not that,” said Plagg, shaking his head, “but you’ll learn it just the same.”

She leapt from the boulder, landing far too lightly on her toes, her mud-stained dress flowing behind her like ink in water. He peered over the edge after her, one eyebrow raised.

“So: You’re offering a roadtrip through our realm and the humans’, over the course of which you’ll instruct me in the laws of your kind, and probably insult me constantly?”

“And complain,” said Plagg, “don’t forget complain.”

She hummed, tilting her head back to meet his eye upside down. “Well, alright.”

“Alright?”

“I’ve never been on a roadtrip before,” she said, pushing off the rock behind her and winding back towards Duusu’s cave. 

Plagg grumbled to himself as he scrambled clumsily off the boulder, feet-first, landing wrong and overbalancing onto his back like a turtle. He laid for a moment on the thick grass, staring at the sky overhead, its crisp blue teasing him with wisps of cloud like laughter.

“I hate children,” he told it sourly, pushing himself up with his elbows. “I hate teaching people things, I hate travel, and I hate dealing with that damn cuélebre. Why me?

“‘Stop whining,’” he mimicked as he got to his feet, in a poor imitation of the Queen, “’You know why.’”

“Well, you do,” she chuckled from behind him.

Plagg yelped, whirling and drawing his sword so fast he almost flung it down the hillside. “Don’t _do_ that!”

“My ears were burning,” said Tikki, grinning unapologetically from her perch on a flat rock as he pouted and sheathed his blade. “You practically summoned me, the way you were grumbling. And I do seem to recall you saying you were impossible to scare…?”

“Said nobody snuck up on me,” he muttered petulantly, crossing his arms over his chest. “S’not because I’m impossible to scare, it’s because they _know_ better.”

“Why Plagg, are you implying you would do me harm?”

“Ah, my lady, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he told her honestly, if somewhat sarcastically. “To what do I owe the honor?”

“I heard your bellyaching all the way from France, Plagg.”

“Forgive me for forgetting the finer points of our little arrangement,” he muttered. “I hadn’t meant to trouble you with my petty complaints.”

Tikki got off the rock, crossing to stand in front of him. He was only a handbreadth or so taller than her, which she took full advantage of at every possible opportunity, this one included.

“There’s nothing petty about them,” she said gently, brushing a hank of white hair from his eyes, which he kept glued to the ground. “You know I don’t think so.”

“I know _you_ don’t,” he conceded, sighing, “but they _feel_ petty. I really don’t know what you expect of me. I don’t know what _anyone_ expects of me.”

“I expect you to follow my orders, even if you don’t particularly like them,” said Tikki, coaxing a laugh out of him, “but that’s all, Plagg. That’s all anyone expects of you.”

He hummed noncommittally, still avoiding her eyes.

“Sharp-tooth sent a message. She’s worried about you.”

“She’s always worried about me,” said Plagg, laughing. “She’s always worried about everyone. How is she? How are the kittens?”

“Fine, all fine. They’re all so happy.” She paused, a sly smile sneaking onto her face. “She asked if you’d foster one.”

“I hope you told her no.”

“I told her I’d ask, but I didn’t think you’d go for it.”

He snorted. “What am I supposed to do, just tuck it under my arm while I go traipsing across the countryside with this spoiled little peacock?”

“Peahen,” she corrected mildly, “although she’s no more a bird than she is spoiled, Plagg. Duusu is more of a pet than a father figure.”

“Wouldn’t that make _her_ the pet?” he snorted, though chastised.

“Well, without getting into the semantics of it, I think it’s safe to say they need the guidance of a responsible adult. Duusu is still young himself, you know—he’d only just left his mother’s nest when he came across her.”

“A responsible adult, huh. I’ll let you know if I see one,” said Plagg, smirking.

“Plagg! Imagine if you had been a little teenager, out on your own for the first time, and what turns up but a human infant? It’d be terrifying,” Tikki scolded.

“Hell, that’d be terrifying now.”

“Exactly. I know you’re going to be horribly rude to the poor thing—”

“She tried to kill a man! Yesterday!”

“—but _do_ try to be sensitive, won’t you? This is going to be a hard time for her.”

“For _her!_ What about _me?”_ he demanded indignantly, straightening to take full advantage of his extra few inches of height.

“It’s going to be a hard time for you, too,” she conceded, laughing.

“I can’t understand why you’re making _me_ do this,” he grumbled, slouching back down at her surrender. “I could name three or four court members off the top of my head who would be _thrilled_ with this—can you imagine how self-satisfied Wayzz would get about it?”

“I shudder to think of it,” Tikki giggled, kissing the tip of his nose when it came back within reach. “For now you’ll just have to accept that I have my reasons, and leave it at that.”

“I don’t _have_ to do anything,” he declared sourly. “I’m a cat.”

“A cat with orders,” she reminded him. “Now go on down and get some rest. You’re staying the night.”

“I’m _what?”_

“Oh, give her some time to adjust to the idea! She doesn’t even know your name.”

“I expect Duusu will have told her by now,” said Plagg, huffing. “In fact, I’ll bet he’d already told her, and she just calls me ‘Cat’ for fun.”

“It’s a cute name. Accurate.”

“Rude,” he protested. “Unbefitting of my station!”

“You gave up your station, if you recall. You’re a humble little stray, now.”

“Am I?” he asked, smirking again as he leaned into her space. “Am I really, my lady?”

“No,” she conceded, “I guess we haven’t quite taught you humility yet.”

“Rude,” he grumbled, shoving her out of the space he’d invaded with both hands. She let him, laughing all the while, and wrapped her fingers around his to keep his palm against her cheek.

“Unbefitting of your station?” she echoed innocently, raising an eyebrow.

“No,” said Plagg, “just regular rude. You assign me to some sort of barbaric sleep over and then bombard me with your insults? It’s a wonder I still serve you at all.”

“It is at that,” she agreed, smiling fondly at him. “But you’ve always been something of a wonder. Do be careful, won’t you?”

“Look, if she can’t handle being called a brat—like, it’s not even an insult, it’s just a _fact—”_

“I meant _you_ be careful, as in, don’t get eaten by a dragon or something while you’re showing off for the child.”

“Oh. Well… no promises, but I do promise I could take a dragon.”

“What, like out to dinner? I doubt a dragon is going to be thrilled with your gourmet selection of mice.”

“All due respect, Your Majesty, but shut the fuck up.”

She laughed again, high and clear, and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek.

“I mean it,” she said sternly, “stay safe. Call me if you need anything, and for your own sake, _try_ to be civil. Especially tonight; you’re a guest.”

“Don’t remind me,” he muttered, dipping his head in a show of deference as she vanished into thin air. He breathed a laugh of appreciation. Plagg had never been good at teleportation—he always went to the time he wanted, but space seemed to escape him. It was Tikki’s domain, ultimately (although time often escaped her).

He wound his way down the hillside without lingering—she wouldn’t be back. Though it was still fairly early, the sky had taken on a warmer hue, drifting lazily towards cream and orange in the balmy evening.

Duusu’s cave was tucked into the side of the hill, nestled under a rocky overhang that dripped a constant, merry stream of water in front of it, curtaining the entrance with a narrow waterfall that burbled into a small pond like the sound of a purring cat.

Plagg hated it.

He grumbled to himself as he ducked under the overhang, picking his way across the path that had been worn through the moss, following the waterline back until the stones rose too high. The mouth of the cave was wide, but it narrowed sharply just inside, like a funnel leading him onward.

He felt the magic barrier as he passed through it, not unlike walking through the waterfall itself—although much drier. It felt like swimming on a hot summer day, bobbing up to the surface with wet hair dripping into his face. The slightly salty taste as he licked those droplets away and blinked up in the dazzling sunshine.

Plagg hated that, too.

It was far too sentimental for boundary magic; there was hardly any transition at all between the human realm and their own. It was liable to lure somebody in, and then where would they be? Duusu would have another foundling brat and Plagg would have to step in and take care of it. Typical.

“Do come in, won’t you?” the girl intoned from deeper in the cave, her sarcasm echoing off the narrow walls.

It was irresponsible, frankly. A boundary like that was like building a fence out of… something fences shouldn’t be made out of. Something nice. Cheese? It was no wonder the kid had showed up in the first place, if that’s the sort of feeling his damn cave was giving off.

The cave widened out again into a massive chamber, where an underground lake (pond? He had never been very good with sizes) had sprung from the ground, until Duusu moved in. Part of it still existed, a small well filled with fairy stones, somehow producing more light than the fire Emília was stoking in the rough-hewn hearth.

“It seems I’m staying the night,” Plagg announced with a grimace. It was mirrored on the girl’s face, but Duusu merely looked amused. He was curled on top of a moderately sized pile of treasure, polishing the goblet Plagg had brought him as his tail brushed absently up and down his hoard. Actually, he was probably so enamored with his various trinkets that _anything_ would amuse him.

Fucking cuélebres.


	2. The Fuach: Juleka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Juleka is 14 years old, and she's living her best life. Until she isn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> major character death but like... kind of? like it's in no way a spoiler to say "hey, you know that ghost? she died one time".

The early morning light filtered slowly through the branches of creaking willows, which parted smooth as silk as the prow passed through, running narrow leaves across the deck like soothing hands. Luka giggled beside her as the dew splashed his face, leaning over the railing to watch the water flow past. She smiled down at him, setting a steadying hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t fall overboard, and looked out into the morning the willows had opened for them.

A light fog had settled over the riverbanks, laying a soft filter over the blue of daybreak. The sun was just beginning to stretch past the horizon, gentle shafts parting the haze like curtains as the earth began to warm beneath their touch. The susurrus of the water beneath the hull seemed muffled in the fog, drowned out by the freshly wakened birds, sharp and clear voices piercing the morning air.

Juleka took a deep breath of the cold morning air, relishing in the bracing damp. The sky was clear overhead, and it promised to be a nice warm day. Maybe they’d go ashore for a while and pick some berries; it seemed the right season for it, though it was hard to say aboard the Liberty. For them, the river was as timeless as the sky. They sailed through an endless summer, boundless even within the confines of the water—though nothing ever seemed to move out of their way, they never seemed to run out of thoroughfare, or reach the sea. They simply sailed on.

She couldn’t remember a time they hadn’t been on the river. They’d go ashore quite often, and once or twice had even stayed the night on dry land in some inn or the other while Anarka completed some errand, but those were rare occasions, like taking a vacation to some strange planet where the ground was always firm beneath your feet, and the world moved around you in slow motion. Luka enjoyed it more than she did, delighting in the novelty of children nearer his own age than Juleka, already half-grown. They’d trade toys and wild tales until she ushered him off to partake of the unusual food the landlings ate, and listen to their music.

It was their great passion, music. Though neither sibling could play, their voices were unparalleled; Juleka had a sneaking suspicion it’s why Anarka had chosen them in the first place. She didn’t especially mind, though—life on the river was a dream compared to their former prospects. If the worst she could complain of was that all the seafood got monotonous, then how bad could it be?

Anarka emerged from the cabin with her usual bluster, sweeping them both into a hug and pressing kisses to their cheeks in greeting. Luka, being a typical ten year old, gave a cursory scoff and wiped his cheek as if it could erase the gesture. Juleka acquiesced with a quiet laugh, leaning into their foster mother’s side as she too looked out over the scenery.

“Lots of willows today,” said Anarka, bright with approval. “We ought to go ashore later and have a picnic.”

“You _want_ to go ashore?” asked Luka, raising a dubious eyebrow.

“Ah, willows barely count as ashore,” said Anarka, waving her hand dismissively. “They’re as much a part of the river as we are.”

“As you are, maybe,” said Juleka, smiling. “We’re not all fairies, you know.”

“And why not?” huffed Anarka. “Quitter talk, that. Just because I haven’t worked out the magic doesn’t mean no one can. I’ll bet the queen could do it.”

“We don’t wanna be fairies, Ma,” said Luka, rolling his eyes.

“And why not?” she demanded. “I can do magic, Luka. Don’t you want to do magic?”

“We can lie,” he countered smugly. “’Sides, we don’t need to do magic. We’ve got you!”

“It’s nice in the abstract,” said Juleka, interrupting Anarka’s spluttering, “but really, what would we use it for? We have everything we could ever need, and if we want something, you can get it.”

“One day you kids are going to leave the nest, and then you’ll be singing a different tune,” said Anarka, with a fond (if exasperated) smile. 

“Who’s leaving?” asked Luka. “We’re never gonna grow up!”

“Speak for yourself,” said Juleka, making a face. “I don’t think I could stand to be fourteen forever.”

“Then some time ashore will do you good, eh?” said Anarka, ruffling their hair and moving along the deck. “Anyone hungry yet?”

“Starved!” said Luka, bouncing after her.

“Ah, little otter,” said Anarka, shaking her head fondly. “You’re always hungry.”

“I’m a growing boy!” he said cheerfully.

Juleka rolled her eyes, trailing after her family as they steered the Liberty nearer the bank. Sailing was as second nature as swimming at this point—easier, even, since she didn’t have to hold her breath.

They made landfall as the fog was beginning to clear, forgoing a gangplank and simply tumbling from the railing onto the soft, dew-soaked grass below. Luka giggled as he rolled end over end down a small slope, spilling in a heap at the bottom. Juleka landed softer, steadying herself with her arms like an animal, while Anarka stayed aboard.

At the base of the slope there was a small, ill-used path, winding through the undergrowth like a game trail. It followed the path of the river for a ways, and Juleka could just make out the shore of a loch down one of its forks.

“You kids go on and play for a while,” Anarka told them, smiling at Luka’s antics as he romped through the strange, still ground. “I’ll catch us some breakfast and call you when it’s done. Mind you don’t stray too far!”

“Yes Ma,” said Juleka, dipping her head dutifully. “We’ll stay within sight of the Liberty.”

“C’mon Jule! C’mon, c’mon, c’mon!” Luka hollered, jumping up and down at the side of the path, unwilling to go far without her.

“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she laughed, picking her way down the slope after him. “You wanna go check out that loch?”

“Yeah! Can we go swimming?”

“Not this morning,” said Juleka, holding out her hand for his as she reached the bottom. He grimaced, but took it anyway, pulling her along at a much faster clip than she would have preferred. “We can swim in the river later if Ma says it’s okay, but you should never swim in an unfamiliar body of water. Know why?”

“Sharks?” asked Luka, scrunching up his face.

“Close,” she chuckled, poking the tip of his nose until he wrinkled it even more and burst into another fit of giggles. “It’s because you don’t know what’s out there! It could belong to anybody, or have a huge dropoff that you aren’t expecting. You could be walking on perfectly stable ground one second, and falling into the water the next.”

“Oooh,” said Luka, eyes wide. “So there _might_ be sharks.”

“Well, not sharks, but scary stuff.”

“It’s okay,” Luka decided, “I could beat up a shark, I think.”

“I think so too,” she told him, smiling at the glee that elicited. “But I don’t want you to beat up a shark, okay? I like sharks. We should leave them alone.”

“Okay,” he said solemnly. “Just because you asked so nice, Jule.”

“Thanks buddy,” she said, leaning over to kiss the top of his head. He squealed in protest, wriggling away from her and taking off towards the shore in another giggling fit.

Juleka found herself giggling too as she chased after him, swooping him up into her arms as they reached the edge of a short beach, twirling him around and around until they collapsed back on the grass in a breathless heap.

“Can we still play on the beach?” asked Luka, propping himself up on his elbows. “I promise not to go swimming unless you say it’s okay!”

“We can still play on the beach,” Juleka confirmed. “Remember if you get too sandy though Ma will make you take a bath.”

“Ugh,” he said dramatically. “Fine, alright. Let’s look for cool rocks, then.”

“You got it,” said Juleka, standing with a small smile. She hauled him up off the ground, snickering as he yelped and kicked before setting him on his feet.

He took off down the beach without another word, boots slapping against the gravelly sand, eyes glued to the ground. Juleka trailed after him at a more sedate pace; he’d get distracted before he got too far, so there was no sense in running after him.

They continued beachcombing for about ten minutes, Luka glancing over his shoulder to keep sight of Juleka, Juleka glancing over her own shoulder to keep sight of the Liberty, both of them absorbed in whatever treasures the loch would reveal.

Luka was the first to notice him.

“Oh,” he said, stopping dead in his tracks. Juleka followed his gaze in mild concern.

There was a man sitting on a boulder beside the water’s edge, paying them no mind at all. He had long, dark hair and a full beard, with a deep green cloak wrapped around his shoulders. At the sound of Luka’s voice, he looked up.

“Ah,” he said in apparent surprise. “Good morning. What brings you children to these parts?”

“We were just taking a walk,” Juleka said carefully, laying a hand on Luka’s shoulder.

“All alone?” he asked, frowning. “That isn’t very safe. Some say there’s a monster about.”

“Our mother is just on the river,” said Juleka, “and we can take care of ourselves, thank you.”

“Be that as it may, I wouldn’t feel right leaving you,” said the man, frown deepening. “This is my loch, you see. It’s been weighing on me, what happened to those girls. I don’t think I could bear it if a pair of children were added to the list.”

“We appreciate your concern, but really, we can handle it,” she said stiffly.

The man slid off the boulder, crunching nearer over the rough shore. Juleka tense instinctively, hand clamping over Luka’s shoulder, and slipped her other hand into her pocket to feel for the silver nail Anarka insisted they each keep on them at all times. She couldn’t tell if he was magic or mundane, but she had no intention of trusting him either way.

As he grew nearer, Juleka could see what appeared to be water weeds woven into his hair, little tangles of green that caught the light.

“Luka,” she said quietly, though not so quietly the man couldn’t hear her if he were magic, “can you run back to the Liberty and get Ma?”

“Yeah,” said Luka, just as quietly. He’d been pressed to her side, half clinging to her shirt, but at that he began to draw away, taking a few steps backwards, away from the stranger.

“I’m afraid your mother won’t be able to do much, little humans,” said the man, with a smile that stretched too wide across his face. He reached for Juleka as though to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear.

“Luka, run!” she commanded sharply, whipping the nail from her pocket and scoring a deep line into the stranger’s arm. He screamed, a high-pitched, hideous shriek, flesh bubbling like wax along the injury.

“You little brat,” he hissed, his dark eyes giving way to red as his glamor melted away in fury. “It was going to be quick. You wouldn’t have felt a thing.”

Juleka said nothing, holding the nail in front of her like a protective talisman, watching him for any hint of movement.

“Now? Now you’re going to suffer. Now, I’m going to peel you apart like I’m gutting a fucking fish, and eat your heart while it’s still beating.”

Luka was screaming behind her, calling for their mother.

He wouldn’t be quick enough.

“You’ve got to catch me first,” said Juleka, swallowing her fear. The nail didn’t tremble in her hand.

The stranger snarled, lunging forward again, snatching the wrist holding the nail and jarring it sharply. She clung to her only defense with desperation, pressing it into the bones of his hand, relishing in the sizzling smell of burnt fish, but it was only a moment before he’d wrenched it from her hand.

The nail fell to the ground with a quiet _tink!,_ and Juleka’s stomach sank in terror and resignation. Her wrist throbbed, but she couldn’t tell if it was sprained or broken without a more thorough examination, and as it stood she couldn’t look away from the baleful, crimson eyes before her.

Luka’s screams ceased abruptly in the distance, and the stranger looked behind her, scowling.

“Shit,” he muttered. “Fine. I’ll deal with you later.”

For a moment, she thought he was going to let her go to clash with Anarka.

Instead, he yanked her forward by her injured wrist, causing her to cry out, and wrapped his other arm around her waist, turning to plunge into the ice cold waters of the loch.

The shock forced the air from Juleka’s lungs, and she struggled to smother her panic as she watched the bubbles stream behind her as they sank deeper and deeper into the frigid cold, the light fading behind them.

“This will only take a minute,” said the stranger, with a cruel grin. “I’ll take care of your little family and then we’ll get back to the fun, shall we?”

Juleka, mouth clamped shut, could only glare at him, thrashing futilely as weeds wound their way around her limbs, apparently of their own volition. As she watched, the long hair became a flowing mane, laden with plants, and the man’s face lengthened into a hideous grin, mottled green skin replacing his former approximation.

An each-uisce.  

Could Anarka beat an each-uisce?

Juleka didn’t want to find out. She writhed against the weeds, but they only grew tighter as she struggled, dragging her further down into the inky darkness.

Her lungs were screaming, and the more she moved the more her head began to buzz and pulse. Pins and needles were creeping up her arms and legs.

Had it always been so dark, or was her vision blacking out?

The burning in her chest grew to be too great, and Juleka gasped in spite of herself, brackish water flooding her mouth, then lungs.

She coughed, thrashing again, desperate to expel the fluid from her airways, but with no air to relieve the pressure it only grew worse. Her nose was burning now too, filled with ice and no air, no air.

No air.

Her vision was definitely blacking out now, but there was nothing she could do. There was nowhere to go.

She looked up desperately towards the muted sky, praying for help.

It never came.

 

 

“Are you sure we won’t get in trouble for this?” asked Rose, triple checking the inscription on the circle she’d drawn up. “Your dad was pretty upset when I summoned you, and that was mostly an accident.”

“My father was upset because he thought I was in danger,” said Ali, sitting patiently in its center. “This time I’m perfectly safe!”

“You say that now, but like, what if it’s angry? I really think we should have gotten permission.”

“It’s better to ask forgiveness,” said Ali, shaking his head. He grinned up at her. “Besides! There’s no ghost that I can’t handle! I’m death itself!”

“If we summon a crocodile or something I’m gonna say I told you so,” Rose said fondly. “Are you ready?”

“I was _born_ ready.”

“Here goes!” she squeaked, letting her magic flow into the spell matrix they’d laid out. Ali’s aos sídhe magic filled the space inside their circle like a glass of wine, while hers wove a delicate shell around it, continuing the inscriptions into three dimensional space. The whole room glowed with bright blue magic, the lines sketched out as though by an invisible hand until they resolved into a vague sphere.

Rose held her breath as the sphere contracted, taking a vaguely humanoid shape, and finally resolved into…

A girl. A little older than her, ethereal and softly glowing.  

Her colors were washed out and she was more or less transparent, but it was still possible to make out a pale blue dress, delicate and beautiful but rather outdated. She wore a headband that did nothing to hold her dark hair out of her face as she crumpled into a ball in the air over Ali’s head.

Ali got to his feet, hopping out of the circle to see the fruits of their labor, grinning at the ghost as she peered out at them from under her bangs.

“Hello!” he said enthusiastically. Rose said nothing, staring transfixed at the ghost’s face.

She was _probably_ the most beautiful person Rose had ever seen in real life.

“H-hello,” said the ghost, after a moment, looking between them with open fear. “Who are—who are you?”

“Prince Ali of the cúnna sídhthe!” said Ali, beaming. “And this is my witch, Rose.”

“Sídhthe?” the ghost echoed, frowning. “You’re a fairy?”

“I am,” said Ali, blinking. Rose could feel his surprise through their bond, as she was sure he could feel her flustered state. “Are you familiar with fairies?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” said the ghost, looking down at her hands, opening and closing them. “I don’t… remember. What’s going on? Why am I see-through?”

“Well,” said Ali, grimacing, “there’s no delicate way to put it, so I’ll just come out with it: You’re dead. You’ve likely been dead for a long time.”

“Oh…” said the ghost, still looking at her hands. She didn’t seem especially upset to hear it. “I think… I think I knew that? But this is new. The… see-through-ness.”

“We summoned you,” Rose finally managed, blushing furiously. “We’re trying to explore the boundaries of life and death, and—um—this seemed like a good place to start?”

“Thanks, I guess,” said the ghost, looking up at her with a shy smile.

Rose’s heart was melting. She was going to die via cute girl. She’d always said it would end this way.

“You’re welcome!” she squeaked. “Um, what’s your name?”

“I… think it’s Juleka,” said the ghost, frowning. “I’m having… I don’t really remember anything. Is that normal?”

“We don’t know,” Ali confessed. “You’re our first attempt.”

“Oh. Are you going to… banish me, or something?”

“Do you want us to?” he asked, tilting his head to one side.

“No,” said Juleka, looking back at Rose. “I’d like to stick around a while, if you’ll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> an each-uisce (pronounced like "eck-ishka", literally 'water stallion') is a type of fuach, a malevolent water fairy. think kelpie, but like, super evil. it's more common to use the scottish spelling (each-uisge) but in the interest of consistency we're keeping it irish like other sídhe names. they're basically demon horses that eat the hell outta people and run amok across the lakeside. if you ever meet a handsome stranger with seaweed in his hair, look the fuck out.
> 
> juleka didn't have magic when she was alive, but she loved her family very much. am i monster for murdering her? yes. yes i am

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so uh. basically all I've got to say about this chapter is: They're in Portugal. And, you know, the other realm, but on this particular plane: Portugal. 
> 
> Why Portugal? honestly it's because of its celtic roots & my nerd ass caring too much about linguistics & funerary customs and all that. there's a great article (chapter?) on the celts in portugal if you wanna check it out: https://www4.uwm.edu/celtic/ekeltoi/volumes/vol6/6_11/gamito_6_11.html  
> ...Why can't I have a normal hobby, like... idk, tennis. people like tennis, right? why couldn't i like tennis?
> 
> anyway when plagg says he and duusu are mouros, it's essentially just the equivalent of saying they're aos sídhe. the mouros encantados were/are a mythological race associated with ancient monuments, mounds/barrows/etc., and often conflated with the mourinhos/maruxinhos who are tiny sprites that live underground. The mouros encantados live under Portugal and Gallicia in a place called Mourama, which is "the other world" or "the world of the dead". so you can see we're dealing with some extremely similar concepts here. 
> 
> there's more stuff that i'll probably be getting to in later chapters tbh, but that's a good basic cover. 
> 
> To anyone who speaks Portuguese & knows what the hell I'm talking about: I am sorry, please help me, google is being unhelpful


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